


Thorny Grace

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Het Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11078244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: She’s thorny, that’s true, but around him it’s a brittle kind of sharpness that feels like it could shatter her if she lets it. His Grace is feathery soft but burns colder than Hell, embracing and imprisoning in one graceful, excruciating movement. He makes her feel fragile, so she claws what control she can from the way he arches into her touch; she makes him feel things he shouldn’t, so he punishes her with his wings to remind her of where the power between them belongs.





	Thorny Grace

Something changed between them after his reappearance from Purgatory and her eventual return from Hell. It was clear to both of them, though neither really confronted it. There was little time or opportunity to discuss the ways they had changed. The ways they had fallen and risen.  
    Castiel was once again a fallen warrior angel with a far clearer purpose than before, no longer muddled by naive presumption and hopes, given power by a God who still seemed ambivalent towards humanity. His Father had told him what he wanted from him but even now Castiel still followed his own mind and still keeping near his demon was no exception to that. He lingered near her because she was becoming his parallel and represented a faint sign of familiarity in a truly fucked up life. Meg was a stronger yet changed demon who had lost her purpose, who’d been broken and torn, and who now kept around him for the sake of protection and companionship.  
    Not humans, always on that outskirts of companionship from the Winchesters and Meg’s own dark allies, and no longer accepted by their own brethren.   
    They were such lonely creatures.  
     They were stranger partners now that he’d lost that edge of madness and guilt in the bowels of Purgatory. Now that she was strong enough to match Crowley even after all his torture. Even though by all rights they could battle and end one another in a whirlwind of smoke and light, it hadn’t happened yet.  
    He’d often show up when she wasn’t expecting it, oozing a power that could rival an Archangel, and usually moodier than Dean Winchester after a bender. Tonight was no exception. She’d already spent a good hour getting all the sigils right so she could rest and soon found herself almost thrown against a wall by his sheer power. His Grace almost choked her whenever he entered a room now and she had to fight down her own instinctive urge to run or fight.  
    Cracking her neck to ease the ache, she stared at him as he crossed the room and took a seat on the bed beside her case. The bottles and knives jingled at the impact.   
    “Usually booty calls are more subtle,” she pointed out.   
    “I don’t have time for subtlety,” Castiel answered. “Not with what’s been happening.”  
    Meg squinted her eyes, seeing the undercurrents. “You’re almost glowing, handsome. What happened?”  
    “Sudden influx of demons in a warehouse. Crowley’s best,” he said, pushing his hand through his dark hair.  
    “Of course.” She known about that place, had been going to go herself. “Winchesters helped, I take it? I know Dean can’t resist poking his nose into that mess.” She turned back to the mirror and began to the monotonous task of fixing her hair. It was for no real reason but that she found it easier to deflect his gaze using a mirror. He had a way of looking at her that reminded her how powerless he could make her.  
    “Yes.”  
    “So why are you here then? You almost got me stabbed last time you were with me and Deany-boy waltzed in, thinking I was killing you.” She looked over her shoulder at him and winked seductively. “Though I think you were having a few little death throes. My jaw aches just from remembering that.”  
    He glared at her but his eyes still glittered at the memory. So Dean had given him hell for sleeping with a demon, Meg thought.  
    “It took me longer to find you,” Castiel stood up from the bed and she looked back at the mirror in reflex. Even she couldn’t understand why their connection had been fluctuating lately. Sometimes she could feel him as if he stood beside her and other times, more disturbingly, it felt like she was so very alone. “Why?”  
    “You tell me,” she snapped and he was instantly pressed up behind her. Turning her head down to avoid his look through the mirror, Meg thought she could smoke out before he caught her further but his hand was already on the back of her neck. He turned her gently and his blue eyes softened.  
    “More walking nightmares? Pain?” he asked. Even for a demon, Crowley’s punishment on the one Lucifer supporter to always escape him had been severe. She shook her head and was aware that her mental walls were being tested by him. He was trying to see if she had developed any cracks lately, if she had let the memories of torture get to her, and she snapped back out with her own darkness. Her power recoiled and sizzled whenever it met his Grace and the lights in the room began to flicker in reaction.  
    “I’m fine.”  
    “You need to let me help you, Meg” Castiel said, cupping her cheek. His Grace still moved, oozed, filtered through her skin and she almost squirmed. For a human, such a thing would be hot, but for her it was bitter cold. It felt like her lungs were encased in ice and she had to struggle for breath when he came so close to her.   
    “Cas…” She closed her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”  
    She asked that every time she let him this close, aware how damned vulnerable it made her to ask it and aware that he liked to see her vulnerable.  
    “Because you were with me when I needed someone. And I saw something worth protecting and befriending…in the end.” His palm slid down her neck, feeling her stunted breath, and a slight glimmer of light passed from his hand over her chest. Meg felt an odd release from the pressure and she closed her eyes.  
    She was half the demon she should have been, she could hear Crowley’s mocking words still in Hell. A has-been demon wrapped up in an angel’s wings like a toy.  
    Grabbing a fistful of his coat with her hand, she yanked him in and pressed her mouth on his, thinking she could overwhelm him with her darkness. Castiel took her kiss and forced her to gentle it by keeping himself slow and steady. His fingers trailed over her face, a ghosting caress filled with such care and gentleness.  
    She hated that so much.  
    Breaking the kiss with a growl of frustrated desire, she shoved him hard until he stumbled back and sat on the bed. She followed and pushed him down even harder until he lay on the rumpled bed with his feet still planted on the floor, a veritable feast of angelic purity that mixed with her darkness. Straddling his hips, Meg pushed his coat over his shoulders and impatiently gestured at his shirt as she pulled her own over her head. Castiel simply watched her as he unbuttoned his shirt and for a moment she saw something in his eyes that sent her stomach flip flopping. She had to lean down close to him to avoid seeing that look.  
    She didn’t want that soft look from him, that almost indulgent sadness. Not now when her own frustrations and despair were pulsing through her body.  
    Sinking her teeth into the ridge of his neck, Meg lay down on top of him. He shifted his weight under her and she pressed herself down into the lean strength of his body. As her teeth nipped at his throat, she felt his hand shift up her back to one of the cups of her bra. He slipped his fingers under the edge and ran his fingers along the satin and skin. A glimmer of power still curved around her body and she lifted her head, leaving a puckered red mark on his neck.   
    “Do you have to do that?” she demanded as she nipped at his pulse point. “You know it makes me uncomfortable to feel that damned… light of yours hovering over me.”  
    “All the time, it’s part of me,” he answered apologetically.   
    She sank her teeth in sharply against his collarbone and his body arched a little. It was one of the few times when she could gain the upper hand with him underneath her. His moments of weakness were when she touched him with her mouth, with her darkness, and seduced him into such wicked delight. His Grace still touched the air around them but felt dormant now compared her power. Her darkness crackled and pulsed through the air as she licked trails down his chest. In these moments, when he forced his own power to remain calm, her own moved more fiercely through the air and it made his Grace seem quiet in comparison. Castiel’s hand moved to her hair, curled in the tendrils and she felt him exhale, his stomach pushing against her cheek as she raked her nails down the ridges of his chest.  
    The scars she felt there made her smile and almost press herself into him. Meg opened her mouth against his abdomen and licked at his skin, tasting a faint bitterness of salt and light.  
    She wanted more than this and all of this. She liked him at her mercy. It could almost make her forget the centuries of torture she’d experienced where Crowley had delighted in using her weakness against her. A weakness that still dwelled within her every moment that she spent in an angel’s embrace.  
    Her body coiled in reaction and she almost felt like screaming against his skin.  
    Immediately Castiel sensed the change in her. He’d come here wanting peace, wanting to lose himself for a few hours, but she felt ready to fight. She hadn’t really fought with him in days but now he felt it boiling inside of her. There were times when she wanted his kindness, had lingered in it, but there were times when she seemed to need to test him to his limits. As if it see if he was enough to contain her and dominate her the way she always tried to dominate him. It made him frustrated and out of control.  
    He’d never once admit that openly to her.  
    She’d already unbuttoned his pants but was having far too much fun tracing his scars with her tongue, occasionally biting hard enough for it to hurt. Castiel knew it was time to stop this before she became lost in her own need to hurt something. Before she provoked him too much and a fight erupted that would end with a destroyed motel and another furious few hours where he would have to try to show her that this wasn’t worth fighting over.  
    With a growl, he yanked on her hair and heard her yelp as he hauled her up his body before rolling her over on the bed. She started swearing in her usual inventive way but he ignored her, trying to grab her hands with his. Her nails raked down his back, leaving bloody trails, before he caught her arms and anchored them at her sides. Her power snapped at him, causing his muscles to clench involuntarily and he almost lost control with the urge to retaliate.  
    But when he felt her frustration and despair, he calmed himself down as best as he could and let her hands go.  
    “Not again, Meg,” he whispered as he ducked his head down and nuzzled her neck. The gentle gesture made her tremble. “Please, Meg, not again.”  
    She couldn’t understand how much he didn’t want to fight her and yet didn’t want to feel the way she made him feel. It was so conflicting and ever since they’d returned to one another, it was tested every step of the way. She was fighting him, as if she was terrified of something beyond Crowley. As if he somehow managed to frighten her more than the King of Hell, though he’d already told her he wouldn’t hurt her.  
    But if he didn’t do something right now, this night would never be salvaged and it could be days before he’d see her again. That just wouldn’t happen.  
    When her nails raked down between his shoulder blades, he felt an irrational agitation go through him and his emotions roiled inside of him. Grabbing her wrists in his hands, he pinned them to the bed and loomed over her. Her dark eyes flicked over him, seeing the avenging angel there and the way he was now pushed to change his mood. But there was something else…  
    Something she knew was a threat in him.  
    His back arched a little and his body contorted as if in pain. This was something new and Meg gave a soft mutter, twisting her arms free. Leaping up from under him, she scrambled for her feet as another brush of Grace crackled through the air. She was able to move only a few feet away before something slid around her, bright and warm. Meg squeezed her eyes shut instinctively and stopped mid-stride as every instinct warned her that to try to run would be death.  
    Castiel stepped up close behind her and this time his Grace was like a warm bath, and she turned her head at it. Something soft and gentle brushed the skin of her breasts, wrapping around her gently. It cocooned her even as his hands gently grasped her shoulders, and she was drawn back into his chest, turned so that she felt his mouth at her temple. His breath was warm against her skin and something besides his hands slid against her bare skin.  
    It was done so quickly that she could barely find the motivation to move against him.      
    “Open your eyes, Meg.”  
    She shook her head. “Uh, no. I’d like to not see my death.”  
    Castiel sighed and nuzzled her hair. His power whipped between them and the wings that curved around her back merely forced her closer. They were barely visible to any eye, wisps of energy and power that curled like rivers of heat around both of them. He hadn’t displayed these often, especially around her, but for some reason the feel of her body against the translucent wings sent a shiver through his own vessel.  
    “I’m not going to kill you. Why would I?”  
    “We’ve been over this. It’s only a matter of time,” Meg insisted but she hesitantly cracked open her eyes. Castiel’s blue eyes were very close to hers and his frustration and desire showed. When she glimpsed the power of his wings curving around them, she stepped closer as if to protect herself. But she couldn’t help but look. They were inconsistent; at one moment, black and grey feathered, teeming with power and softness and in another they were nothing more than shadow and light. She understood what he was trying to tell her and it was terrifying.  
    “Meg, I believed you were worth saving. Demon and all, it was proven,” he said and his wings curled tighter around her body. It brought up ridges and welts where her skin rebelled against touching his Grace, yet she didn’t move away as he pulled her even closer. The marks would appear and disappear as their power mingled together and she knew it was a sign of how imprinted he was on her when her skin didn’t ache as much.  
    He brushed his mouth over hers, inviting a kiss. “If an angel can fall, why can’t a demon rise beyond what you were made?”  
    “Because it’s not the way I should be and you shouldn’t be the one trying to change that,” she argued and he laughed.   
    “I don’t think you realize how alike we have become.”  
    “I don’t want to.” She tried to pull away and instantly his wings wrapped so tightly around her she couldn’t move more than a fraction of an inch. Her chest pressed up against his and she felt his hand stroke her scarred stomach. It was a reminder how strong he was, of who was very much in charge of this oddness between them. She was kidding herself to think she could fight against it; all of her tricks and schemes were turned to dust in the face of it.   
    “I won’t let you go,” he told her and he kissed her gently, his hands bracketing her face to keep her still. The wings flickered against her back, the insubstantial feathers tickling her skin. “Not until you understand that I believed you worth saving.”  
    “A demon? Your angel boys would freak to know that,” she growled, her eyes slicking to black as she stared at him. He took the look easily.   
    “Maybe.” He dropped his head and nipped at her earlobe. His wings fluttered a little and then settled so snugly around her that it started to feel as if he’d wrapped her in a soft warm blanket. “It can’t be any worse than what your Abominations are saying.”  
    “That I’m a stupid bimbo to be so caught up in an angel?” she offered weakly as he traced over the scars on her stomach.   
    “Such thorny pain,” he said against her ear. “It’s beautiful on you, Meg.”  
    “Don’t say things like that!” Meg pushed at his shoulders, her hands slowly trailing down his chest, and he chuckled. “This is your idea of punishing me? Of torturing me?”  
    “It’s working, isn’t it?” Castiel asked and she didn’t answer. His wings shifted against her skin, soft and comforting. Cradled by light and softness, the demon was unsure what to do next so she pressed herself as close as she could against him. Meg closed her eyes when he nipped at her skin. “Please don’t fight me tonight, Meg. We can fight in the morning, if you want to.”  
    “I find it ironic that I’m the one reminding you how wrong this is,” she snapped but her hands slid up his chest to tangle in his hair. Castiel made an odd sound in his throat and lifted his head. Their eyes met, the bright blue of his searching the deep darkness of hers.  
    “I know.”   
    He cupped her face and she tilted her head up to look at him. Something bright was in her eyes, almost feverish and he smiled at her, running his fingers over her face. She almost looked shattered as she softened a little underneath him. He knew that the change in her was what made her very vulnerable to him and he wondered if she saw his own vulnerability now.  
    When she leaned up and kissed him, he had his answer. Castiel wrapped his wings tighter around Meg and succumbed to something he was only just beginning to understand.

 


End file.
